we'd been twelve years down so they rallied all around   and they offered up the boys to die   trading blood for money, selling flags and spining lies   and business getting better was the battle cry   its got nothing to do with you   its not a happy story   you wont see em running the numbers   but you'll see who gets the fucking glory   urban epidemics always seem much more severe   when problems turn from black to white   and candle-coated vigils always seeming to sincere   atleast until the end of the night   they're selling flags and spinning lies while sending someone elses son's to die